


Goodness

by Witete



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), may being a subtle badass, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witete/pseuds/Witete
Summary: A continuation of the scene at the end of Homecoming. In other words, May tearing Tony a new one.





	Goodness

**Author's Note:**

> This document was titled 'iw kicked my ass so this is how i cope'  
> fun times  
> enjoy!

_ “What the fuck?!” _

 

Peter startled, whirled around on his toes faster than the speed of light itself, and faced the shell-shocked woman who stood at the threshold of his bedroom door, jaw on the floor, body locked tight like a wooden board.

 

Her rigid stance and her shock-contorted face, all coupled with an f-bomb that she would _ never  _ drop around Peter, struck a chord inside the teenager that he could only describe as unadulterated terror.

They stood facing each other, Peter fearing that if he even moved one inch in any direction, she would snap him in half. Aunt May didn’t move either, but her face went through a range of emotions so fast that Peter couldn’t decipher them even if he had wanted to.

 

Peter swallowed. “May-“

 

She held up a hand to silence him. It probably would’ve sounded like a whip had it moved any faster. Peter shut his mouth and stared at his red clad feet, feeling his neck and face growing warm.

 

May let out a quick, stressed sigh and Peter could see her cross her arms in his peripheral vision.

 

“Peter,” she said, her voice quiet, but strung painfully high. “Please tell me that this isn’t what I think it is.”

 

Peter went to open his mouth, but his aunt continued to speak.

 

“Please tell me that this is for…like, a school costume party or just a weird little game that you and your friends play. Please tell me that that’s what I’m seeing right now.”

 

Peter continued to look at his feet and didn’t say a word.

 

He felt the atmosphere around his aunt shift, but he couldn’t pinpoint if that was better or worse.

 

_ “Peter,” _ a new voice said, fueling the already dense atmosphere between aunt and nephew.  _ “Your epinephrine production has elevated, despite the lack of muscular exertion. Do you require assistance?” _

 

“Who’s that?” May said, her tone clipped as her eyes snapped to the mask still held in Peter’s iron-tight grasp.

 

“Uh…Karen,” Peter responded after a beat, his voice tinny and unsure.

 

He started when his aunt took a step towards him, holding out her hand. Her newly done nails looked like claws to Peter. The teenager swallowed and dropped the mask into her waiting grasp.

She snatched it from him and examined it. She tapped the eye lenses with her fingertips, her gaze unreadable. She peeled back the red and black fabric, peering into the mask without actually putting it on. She cast a flat gaze at Peter.

 

“Karen? Who is Karen?”

 

_ “Do you require assistance?”  _ the AI said, her voice sounding concerned at the lack of Peter’s verbal response.

 

“Uh..n-no Karen, I’m good.” Peter wrung his hands together, watching as a small portion of the inside of the lenses lit up as the suit picked up his voice. “Thank you. Please don’t contact To- anyone.”

 

“Answer me, Peter.”

 

“Karen’s an…A.I.. Artificial intelligence,” he clarified.

 

May’s confused expression became even more so. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

 

Peter wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the window not six feet from his back and swing away from this awful conversation. How could he be so careless as to not even close the door before lollygagging around in his Spider-Man suit? God, and the fact that his heightened senses didn’t even pick May up was more infuriating. He understood that because she wasn’t a threat, she wouldn’t be detected, but she felt sure as hell threatening now. He just hoped that she wouldn’t wring his neck after this tense conversation was over.

 

“An A.I.?” May breathed, peering at the mask again. “Did…did you make her- it?”

 

Peter shook his head ‘no’ and realized instantly afterwards that that probably wasn’t the smartest move. May was chewing Peter out- he didn’t want the A.I.’s actual creator to get involved as well.

 

“Then who made it?”

 

Yeah, there it was. Peter bit his lip and didn’t say a word.

 

“Peter.” May’s voice sounded dangerous. Peter shut his eyes and wished he was down in Tony’s lab, or back at school, or trapped under the columns of rubble that fell on him not a week earlier, or literally anywhere else but where he was right now. “Peter, who made it?”

 

The silence between the pair was awful.

 

Then, May did something that made Peter’s heart drop.

 

“Hey…Karen?” May said tentatively, holding the mask close to her face. The eye lenses lit up in response.

 

_ “Voice authorization required to access communications.” _

 

May stared at the mask for a moment before shooting a look at Peter, both amazed and demanding.

 

Peter swallowed hard. “She, uh, only answers to…me.”

 

_ And Mr. Stark,  _ Peter thought, but didn’t say.

 

“Either answer my questions or give me access to the A.I.,” May said, with a tone of finality.

 

“May, please,” Peter begged, taking a step toward his aunt.

 

“Peter Parker,” she bit in response. Her face was severe, but past all the shock and frustration, Peter could see worry and fear clouding her eyes. Peter knew that she just wanted to protect him and that she would do right by him, but he wasn’t willing to just let his greatest guarded secret be given away to the one person who could take all of that away.

 

_ Mr. Stark did,  _ his brain supplied unhelpfully _. And you barely put up a fight after he discovered your homemade suit before leaving for Germany…which May still doesn’t know the…extent of. _

 

He wasn’t sure why this was different. Maybe he thought May wouldn’t understand.

 

Peter startled when he felt a hand on his forearm. He looked at his aunt’s face, her features becoming softer and softer the more he looked. She was scared.

 

“Peter, please tell me what’s going on.”

 

Peter regarded her guiltily for a moment before letting out a sigh.

 

“Karen, give May Parker access to communications. Access code 01110000.”

 

_ “Welcome, May Parker,” _ Karen said after a small chime emitted from the built in earpiece.

 

May looked slightly disappointed that Peter wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted, but she was going to take what she could get.

 

Peter, shoulders heavy with defeat, was finally able to uproot himself from the floor he felt stuck on for so long. He turned around and started to shuck his suit off. The spandex expanded and sagged as he pressed the spider emblem sat in the center of his chest, wires and small mechanisms unlocking with soft hisses. He didn’t care that his aunt was still within reaching distance of him as he quickly reached for a nearby shirt and shorts.

 

And, oh sure, _ now  _ his senses tell him that May is staring at the suit that was sat in a crumpled heap on the floor.

 

He turned back around and May slowly turned her gaze back on the mask which was awaiting instruction.

 

“Karen?” she tried again.

 

_ “Hello, Ms. Parker. How may I assist you today?” _

 

May froze for a moment, like she hadn’t expected the A.I. to answer at all. She glanced at Peter again before looking back at the mask.

 

“Who are you?”

 

_ “I am an artificial intelligence that was designed to assist Peter in regards to suit maintenance, heath assessment, and combat assist.” _

 

May jerked visibly at the last two words and Peter shied away slightly.

 

“Who is your designer? Who created you?”

 

_ “The base coding of my program stems from a program titled J.A.R.V.I.S.. Said program has been designed and maintained by Mr. Anthony Stark, head of the Research and Development program at Stark Industries.” _

 

Peter bit his lip and waited for the fallout that was sure to come.

 

May blinked slowly. “Tony Stark created you? Did he create this…suit too?”

 

The last question sounded like it was more directed at Peter than the A.I., if the accusing gaze from his aunt was anything to go by.

 

_ “Yes, Ms. Parker,” _ Karen confirmed.

 

May’s searching stare into Peter’s face became more intense. Thanks to his elevated senses, Peter saw that there were tears threatening to form in the corners of her eyes.

 

“Why?” May whispered, her voice sounding hurt and betrayed. “Why you? Peter…what happened?”

 

Karen didn’t respond and Peter lowered his head, severing eye contact with his aunt, the mask dropping from her hands.

 

Within seconds, he felt his aunt wrap her arms around him. Instinctively, he hugged her back, melting into the comfort of her touch, forgetting the wild and hot anger she had possessed a few minutes before.

 

“Mr. Stark was helping me, May,” Peter said. “He was trying to protect me. Don’t blame him for this.”

 

May’s hug became tighter and then she abruptly pulled away. Her face returned to its previous severity and it made Peter flinch. She wasn’t angry with him anymore which made Peter even more unsettled.

 

“I’m going to  _ kill  _ him for this,” she bit. Before Peter could respond, she whirled out on her heel and stalked out of the room. Her angry footsteps echoed through the hallway.

 

Peter’s heart dropped in panic and he bolted after her. “No, no May!”

 

She didn’t even acknowledge her nephew’s attempts to deter her as she moved into the kitchen. She snatched up Peter’s phone which lay on the countertop in her fierce hand and faced the teenager.

 

“May,” Peter begged, near on the edge of panic, words falling from his mouth rapidly. “It wasn’t his fault! This suit was made to protect me. I got bit by a spider whenever I went on that field trip to OSCORP. Remember me going, right? Remember I got really super sick that day? Remember wh-“

 

“-you kept this from me?!” May’s voice suddenly rose over Peter’s. “You kept this from me and told  _ that _ man instead?”

 

“He found out, May, I never told him!” Peter responded. “That’s his job as an Avenger: he looks for potentially enhanced individuals and I got caught on his radar.”

 

“What- why is that part of his job? What’s he looking for?”

 

“Potential threats,” Peter said. “Or for recruitments.”

 

“Recruitments?” May’s jaw dropped. “He was trying to get you to join the Avengers? You’re  _ fifteen _ !”

 

Peter winced at that. She…did have a point.

 

“He was just trying to look after me,” he repeated quietly, dropping his gaze again. “He made this suit so I could do what I do without getting hurt and being able to call for help if I needed it. He knew that I was going to do this if I had a suit or not- he wanted to make sure that I was as safe as I could be.”

 

“..you never told me?”

 

May’s words came out as a question and it hurt Peter to hear her so upset and cheated.

 

“You’d try to stop me,” Peter shrugged. Peter would be lying if he said her silent response didn’t hurt him.

 

“You’re going to do something for me,” May said, holding Peter’s phone out to him. The boy’s brows furrowed and he accepted it warily.

 

“You’re going to call Stark and tell him to come over. For dinner, for a movie, for whatever you do when you visit him, I don’t care- just get him to come.”

 

Peter, of all things, gave a nervous laugh, but couldn’t get himself to say anything in response.

May continued. “You’re going to invite him over and all three of us are going to talk about this.”

 

“I, uh, hope this doesn’t end with a restraining order being filed,” Peter said, his nerves riding on the words, making it sound like he was joking.

 

He wasn’t.

 

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to escape this snare he found himself caught in. He just hoped that Mr. Stark could hold out until this whole thing was done. And he hoped that they would still be legally allowed to be within a hundred feet of each other.

 

“Not off the table,” May said. “You’re lucky if I don’t punch his lights out.”

 

_ You could _ , Peter’s thoughts conceded, making the boy wince a little.  _ And he wouldn’t try to stop you. _

 

He stood there, fiddling with the phone between his palms, while May stood there with calm, angry patience.

 

“Now, Pete.”

 

A hefty sigh escaping his lungs, Peter looked down at his phone, opened it, and scrolled past his recent calls list. His thumb hovered over the Iron Man icon for a few moments before tapping it.

“Speaker phone,” May said as the number rang. Peter silently and begrudgingly did as she asked.

 

The phone was almost instantly picked up, but it wasn’t Mr. Stark who answered.

 

“ _ You have reached the Research and Development department of Stark Industries _ ,” a soft Irish voice said. “ _ Please leave name, date, and purpose of call and a representative will respond within 24 hours.” _

 

May looked at Peter with a gaze that suggested that she felt like Peter was pulling her leg by Stark not answering.

 

Peter grimaced slightly, but hearing the A.I.’s sooth and smart voice eased his nerves ever so slightly.

 

“Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y,” Peter greeted. “It’s Peter…Parker.”

 

May frowned and mouthed the A.I.’s name to herself quietly.

 

“ _ I will connect you with boss, Mr. Parker _ ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y responded, her voice sounding a little friendlier now that she recognized the caller.

 

“Thank you, FRI,” Peter said. She bid him farewell and the line went quiet.

 

Or…no. It wasn’t quiet really.

 

Peter realized that F.R.I.D.A.Y must have connected his call to the sound system in the lab because he could hear the distinct sounds of cutting metal and the growling voice of Brian Johnson filling any possibility of empty sound.

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter said tentatively into the speaker. It must’ve been loud enough because the drilling stopped and the wild guitar riffs ceased a few moments later.

 

_ “Hey, FRI, what have I told you about connecting my phone to the overheads? Disembodied voices scare the hell out of me- you included.” _

 

_ “Apologies, boss,”  _ F.R.I.D.A.Y responded. “ _ For the future, I suggest not tampering with the wiring of your answering device whilst being awake for your 48 _ _ th _ _ hour straight.” _

 

_ “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, baby girl. Hello?” _

 

“Hey- hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter stuttered through a faint, amused smile, somewhat taken off-guard by Stark’s quick response. “Hi.”

 

“ _Hey, kiddo_ ,” Tony responded, a faint grin evident in his voice. “ _How are you?_ _Did you see the suit on your bed? Your fabric one, not the cooler, sleeker, more awesome- did I say cooler?- Avenger suit?”_

 

May’s sharp glare narrowed even more, but she didn’t say a word. Peter really wished that this wasn’t happening. He didn’t like to bother Mr. Stark as it was; now, not only was Peter taking him out of his lab, but he was sending him to certain doom and on low levels of sleep.

 

“Uh, y-yeah, I got the suit back. Thank you, by the way,” Peter paused. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark.”

 

May’s glare turned confused, but Peter ignored her.

 

_ “Ah, don’t sweat it, Peter. It’s probably me who should apologize…” _ Tony’s voice tapered off. It was like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t get the words out. Peter knew that the billionaire was an emotional soul, but he also knew that he didn’t let people in easily. Peter never figured out what happened in Siberia, but ever since Tony had come back, there had been a lot more gentler moments shared between them.

Peter, to this day, was still convinced that that indeed was a hug Tony had tried to give him in the car, the poor guy.

 

_ “Anyways,”  _ Tony said, his hands clapping together as a way to dispel the sappy atmosphere.  _ “Live an’ learn. What’s up? You need something?” _

 

“Oh, yeah.” Peter felt his stomach drop. “I- uh…I was wondering if you..mm- wanted to come over…tonight? For dinner?”

 

Tony was silent for a few seconds and May stared intensely at the phone, like she was trying to light the man on fire.

 

_ “I mean…” _ Tony said. He sounded like he was unsure.

 

_ Please have something going on tonight,  _ Peter thought.  _ Please have a rich-person’s party to go to or something. _

 

_ “Is there an occasion that I missed? When’s your birthday?”  _ Tony added quietly to himself.

 

“Heh, no, there’s no occasion, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured. “I- uh, May and I decided that it would be nice if you came and…visited.”

 

The words made Peter feel ill to his stomach, the lie sticking to his gut like thick oil. He  _ really _ hated this.

 

_ “I don’t want to intrude…” _

 

“Mr. Stark, we’re inviting  _ you- _ be  _ our  _ guest.”

 

Tony lapsed into silence for a moment before a small snicker escaped him. “ _ Leave it to you to make a Disney reference.” _

 

“Leave it to you to  _ get _ a Disney reference.”

 

_ “Watch it, kid,”  _ Tony said.  _ “I’ll take your suit again.” _

 

Peter, in spite of himself and May standing there, chuckled. “No you won’t.”

 

Tony sighed in faux annoyance.  _ “You’re gonna drive me in the ground one of these days, kid.” _

 

_ May will do that before I even have the chance to  _ warn _ you, _ Peter thought, swallowing thickly.

 

“So…that’s a ‘yes?’” Peter said instead, internally begging his friend to vehemently say the opposite.

 

_ “Sounds good, kiddo. What time?” _

 

May mouthed ‘seven thirty’ and that’s what Peter said.

 

The two bid farewell and before Peter could hang up, he heard Stark’s background music resume at full volume.

 

When May was sure that Stark was no longer on the line, she extended her hand to Peter.

 

Peter looked at it for a moment, confused, before pouting. He put the phone back in her waiting palm and she turned away.

 

“And don’t even think about contacting Stark again about this,” May said, putting the phone in her pocket. “If he somehow figures this out between now and seven thirty, we’re going to have a larger problem.”

 

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he made his way over to the couch. He flopped down onto the cushions and draped an arm over his eyes.

 

“Yes, May.”

\---

 

Tony was going to be here any moment and Peter felt awful.

 

Peter understood what May was doing. He got it, he really did and he didn’t blame her. But knowing what she was doing and why didn’t really make the dread seep away.

 

May sat by Peter on the couch, much less high-strung than before, but still very hell-bent on her mission. The television played quietly in the foreground, some lower channel game show, and the air quiet between the pair.

 

Despite everything, May still cooked some food. Italian. That gave Peter some hope that maybe this wouldn’t end in a bloodbath.

 

When someone knocked at the door, Peter almost jumped out of his position on the couch, the anxiety returning with a fierce sucker punch to the chest.

 

He whirled around and faced May, expecting her to answer the door and tear Stark a new one there.

 

She returned his gaze steadily, not angrily, but in that parental kind of way and gestured to the door with her chin.

 

Peter let himself groan, knowing that it couldn’t possibly get any worse than the thoughts he had concocted in his head. “You’re out to get me, May.”

 

“You know I’m not,” she responded in a matter-of-fact way that made Peter wince.

 

With shaking hands, Peter removed the knob of the security chain from its slot on the door and reached for the handle. The door opened with a loud creak that screamed through Peter’s sensitive ears and revealed the face of his mentor.

 

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, a rare genuine smile gracing his face despite the faint bruise that still loomed ominously underneath his right eye. His rose-tinted glasses reflected soft pink across the skin around his eyes, hiding the sleepless bags that for sure hung there.

 

He paused a moment and looked Peter up and down, his smile turning a little forced.

 

“Too much?” he asked, gesturing to himself, clad in a reddish-pink suit jacket and dark pants. Peter noticed the watch that shifted on Tony’s wrist when he went to adjust his cufflinks nervously. “Looking ostentatious is kinda my thing, unfortunately.”

 

“Oh, heh, no you’re good, Mr. Stark,” Peter laughed nervously, opening the door wider, hating everything. “Uh, come in.”

 

“Kid,” Tony said, stepping past the threshold. Peter considered bolting out of the door, standing ajar at Stark’s back. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Tony?” Not waiting for an answer, his genuine smile returned as he warmly greeted May.

 

May didn’t respond and Peter shut the door, standing quietly behind Tony, looking down at his feet.

 

His heightened senses pricked the hair on the back of his neck as the tension in the room rose and he heard Tony’s blood pressure rise. Peter hoped Stark didn’t have heart problems, because Peter’s was about to fall into his stomach and he wasn’t even May’s current target.

 

“Peter?” Tony asked, trying to keep his smile from turning into all teeth, pulling up defenses. His left arm twitched.

 

“She found out,” Peter murmured guiltily, shifting out from behind Tony, giving his mentor the access to the door if he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Come here, Petey.” May gestured to her side and Peter quietly obeyed, hating hating  _ hating  _ leaving Tony’s side, but having virtually no choice. May stood, grabbed Peter’s wrist, and placed him behind her. Peter swallowed and refused to look Tony in the face.

 

Tony’s entire body was tense and Peter, had the situation been different, would’ve found it funny that the great Iron Man was cowering in front of his aunt who was at least half a foot shorter and a lot less armed.

 

Tony took his shades off, placed them in his breast pocket and folded his hands behind his back, eyes cast down in a submissive gesture.

 

The entire look was jarring to Peter and felt almost surreal. Here was this man, this outrageous, intelligent, billionaire superhero who fought his way out of an Afghan cave and flew a nuke into space; who filled the entire space of any room he was in, gestures wide and grandiose, voice smooth and eloquent; who peeled out sharp smiles and quick-witted jabs, eliciting jarring laughter or deep-hating groans and glares, depending on which side he threw from. Here was that same man, dressed like he was ready to go to a business meeting, but coiling into himself when he should be straight-backed and prideful; eyes down and guilty when they were usually teeming with light. This was a Tony Stark that Peter was not used to seeing, but something inside him said that Tony looked…not comfortable with the position he was in…but way too accepting.

 

Like he well and truly deserved it.

 

_ It’s probably me who should apologize. _

 

Oh.

 

“I’m-” Tony started, stopped, and then shook his head. “-not going to say anything.”

 

“How fucking  _ dare _ you,” May seethed, driving her words in like a lion’s teeth into a jugular. “How dare you take my boy behind my back and let him do this every single night, knowing that he has the chance of not coming back? How dare you take him to fucking  _ Germany  _ for the ‘internship’ which I  _ know  _ doesn’t mean filing papers and bringing people coffee? You have the  _ gall  _ to call yourself a hero when you put a child, my Peter Parker, in danger? You’re no better than the fugitives they arrested.”

 

“May!” Peter hissed, grasping her upper arm with a hand. With May tense under Peter’s hand, he chanced a look at Tony. His gaze was still cast downwards, in a middle space between May’s knees and her feet. His jaw was rigid and teeth bit hard down into his lower lip.

 

“May,” Peter said again, hating hating hatinghatinghatinghating. “You don’t mean that…”

 

“Petey’s my  _ boy,  _ Tony,” May said, her voice cracking at the end of the name. “He’s all I have left. And I can’t…” She took a deep breath and Tony shut his eyes. “I can’t lose him. You get that? I can’t…”

 

Tony gave a small, terse nod. “Yeah, I get that.”

 

“Do you?” May whispered.

 

Peter, at first, took it as a test, a jab at the billionaire; a test to see if he would lie and say that he did understand when he really didn’t. But as the words seemed to echo into the space, Peter realized it as an actual question; a real, genuine inquiry.

 

Tony must’ve taken it as such because he lifted his eyes to May’s, his gaze liquid embers of barely repressed guilt and remorse, running much  _ much  _ deeper than that moment alone; running back to moments only cracked open by alcohol content and vivid nightmares; running back to moments as fresh as the bruise on his cheekbone.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you must also get why I can’t let him do this anymore,” May said.

 

Before Peter could defend himself, Tony’s lips curved into a sharp-edged smile, his eyes slipping further into whatever oily and black place his soul was pushing up daisies in.

 

“You’re going to hate me so much more when I tell you that telling him to up and stop doing this is an awful idea.”

 

“What did you do?” May said, more question than ire behind her eyes.

 

“Took away the suit,” Tony admitted. “Suit or not, that kid will go down fighting; leaves no job undone.”

 

“I know my own kid, Stark,” May bit again and Tony instinctually lowered his eyes again.

 

“Of course,” he conceded.

 

May then turned to Peter who had his gaze earth-bound as well. “Peter, you can’t keep doing this.”

 

“May, you don’t understand-“ Peter started.

 

“No, Peter, no, I don’t care!” May snapped, her voice becoming louder and shaky again. “Whatever debt you think you owe Stark is not worth your life! If this is some sort of repayment for what happened at that expo all those years ago, you can forget that right now-“

 

She stammered out her last words, cut off by a sharp, dry sob. “-you almost died, Peter…and I-I can’t see you go too. Not…not after Ben…”

 

May brought her hands up to cup Peter’s face, tilting his head so that he was looking her in the face.

 

Peter hated seeing her so upset; her eyes red-rimmed, cheeks flushed with frustrated anger and a rotted, festering sadness that coiled deep within the core of her soul. Her eyes were begging, pleading, full with those moments that he had caught her crying in her room after Ben’s death, his plaid shirts clasped against her chest. Her hands, soft but gripping against the sides of his face felt like overnight field trips and sleepovers and homecoming, begging him to come home the next morning. Her voice, quivering with protective anger felt like dinner table conversations after a rough day at school, wordlessly promising that she would walk through hell and back again if it meant Peter’s bullies and ghosts of the past would vanish into thin air.

 

Her body was barely blocking Peter’s view of Tony behind them, still rooted to the floor, but eyes up, wide and searching with colors of concern and confusion with palms coiled behind his back and lips shut tightly. Peter could see questions shimmering in the dark browns of his eyes, but he didn’t utter a word. They met eyes for a moment and the corner of his lip quirked in a morose, guilty smile.

 

Both of them stood, facing Peter with various degrees of pleading and sadness and fear, begging him silently or loudly to hang up the suit; go back to being a kid; go back to being normal.

 

“I can’t.”

 

May visibly blanched and Tony flinched slightly.

 

“Peter, baby, what- you  _ can’t?”  _ May started. She would’ve rounded on Tony, teeth gnashing at him if Peter didn’t keep her hands attached to his face with his own palms. “Why, baby,  _ why _ ?”

 

“May, this isn’t about paying debts to Mr. Stark,” Peter said, keeping his voice even despite the surge of emotions boiling in his stomach. “This has nothing to do with him at all, okay, it’s all  _ me.” _

 

He paused, gathering his thoughts with a shuddering, nigh-on-crying sigh. “Everything’s different, May-  _ I’m  _ different; after the bite, after…Ben. May, I can’t go back if I wanted to. When I can do these things, with the powers I have, and not do anything when the bad things happen, I couldn’t live with myself. I want to  _ help.  _ I can’t… _ not  _ help-“

 

He gestured to Tony behind May’s back. “-and I meant it when I said he was- is only here to help me and protect me. Like he said, I would’ve done this anyway, with or without his help.”

 

May swallowed and gave the courtesy at looking back at Tony for a brief moment, trying to see him in a new light. Tony met her gaze calmly but still didn’t say a word. May turned back to her nephew when Peter patted at her hand still on his face.

 

He leaned closer to her, hiding his mouth from Tony’s eyes.

 

“He’s not Uncle Ben, May; he’s not Dad,” Peter whispered, starting to feel heat rise in his cheeks over what he was about to admit. “Never will be, but…he’s the closest thing I have…”

 

May didn’t answer him and it made Peter feel even sillier for admitting something like that. She just searched his face desperately, her eyes wandering his features. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for and the timer on the oven dinged before he could ask.

 

“That’s the focaccia,” she murmured instead, releasing Peter and turning around. Peter would’ve, again, laughed at Tony’s barely perceptible flinch as May brushed past him to go towards the kitchen had the situation not been so dire.

 

Peter inhaled deeply and wiped at his face, becoming conscious of the weakness in his knees. He sat down heavily on the couch, eyeing Tony through his fingers.

 

The man in the doorway looked lost, looking between the boy on the couch and the silent aunt in the kitchen. May, somehow sensing this without turning around towards the living room, gestured behind her. “Sit, Stark. Dinner will be ready soon.”

 

In that moment, Tony seemed to find his bravado again and he flashed a smile, though it still looked protective and taut at the corners. “Usually people who are pissed at me don’t bother with gestures like that, except for maybe Pepper. Or Rhodey.” He paused. “I guess they don’t count, they’re always pissed at me.”

 

Peter managed a snort and his aunt remained quiet.

 

Tony obviously felt the tension in the room and, while in other situations he may have tried to fill it with his bravado, he didn’t push his luck and simply sat down on the couch on the opposite end of where Peter was slouched.

 

The pair was silent, not quite awkwardly silent, but close enough to it where the sound of the television and May’s clattering in the kitchen wasn’t doing enough to fill the air.

 

Peter was blankly watching the television screen when Tony spoke up about a minute later:

 

“You went to my expo?”

 

Peter turned to Tony who was looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile threading across his face.

 

Peter shifted on the couch, pulling one of his legs up. “Yeah, I did. It was quite the, uh,  _ experience.” _

 

Tony scoffed. “Now that is a  _ vast  _ understatement.”

 

Peter shrugged and he offered Tony a small smirk. “I have no other words to describe it.”

 

“I have the tendency to leave people speechless.”

 

“So I’ve heard.”

 

Another lapse of silence followed, though this one felt much less stressful. Peter almost felt relaxed.

 

“God, you were young, kiddo,” Tony said after a few moments, stress-playing with the watch on his wrist. “How old were you?”

 

“Eight or nine.”

 

A pause. Peter wouldn’t have minded the silence, but the atmosphere of the room was thrown off kilter ever so slightly as the moment stretched into ten. Peter looked at his mentor expectantly, feeling that the man wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words.

 

“Did you make it out okay?” he asked hesitantly, facing Peter cautiously.

 

Peter tilted his head slightly. “I mean, I’m here.”

 

Tony regarded him carefully, eyes narrowed ever so slightly in scrutiny. He chewed the inside of his cheek.  “You were the kid in the Iron Man mask, weren’t you?” he asked, disregarding his previous inquiry with little thought.

 

Peter, still trying to grasp the reigns of the conversation, gave an abashed smile. “That obvious, huh?”

 

“Should’ve known that you’d be a kiss-up so early on in the game,” Tony said, crossing his legs.

 

“Hey,” Peter laughed, pointing an index finger at the man. “Who wasn’t? You were the shit back then.”

 

“Oh, so not anymore?” Tony teased. “Too old to be ‘the shit’ now?”

 

It was funny to see him cast a cautionary glance back towards the kitchen when he cursed, afraid May could hear.

 

“No, now you’re just shit.”

 

For a split moment, Peter feared that maybe that tease might have gone too far, evaded the armor and struck the soft, vulnerable places that Peter knew his mentor had, but Tony gave a real smile and a real chuckle with no false edges and sounds. It made Peter smile to see Tony smile.

 

“Fair, fair,” Tony said around his quiet peals of laughter.

 

Peter smiled with him, almost completely at ease until May’s voice ordered them to the table. Even Tony seemed to jolt a little in response to her voice, although it didn’t sound too harsh.

 

The two boys stood up and cautiously made their way to the little table that was sat near to the kitchen itself. The small table was already set, three decorated spots each donning a glass of water, silverware, a dinner plate (the plastic ones, Peter noticed), and paper napkins. In the center of the table was a dish of focaccia bread, fresh out the oven, a large ceramic bowl of pasta carbonara, and a plate of caprese salad, one piece for each them. 

 

It smelled fantastic, which was a surprise to Peter. No offense to his aunt, but most food that was cooked by her that was actually edible usually had the flavor and texture of cardboard. It was obvious, however, that tonight she had the intention of making an impression and asserting herself as the alpha in the room. Though Peter knew that Mr. Stark wouldn’t care too much about the quality of the food (at least he wouldn’t  _ say  _ anything, to her face at least), May probably figured that she could use it to her advantage.  It seemed to be working its magic too. Peter could tell that the billionaire was slightly out of his element, or at least nervous by the juxtaposition of the events. He looked as if he wanted to ask to make sure he was invited, but couldn’t quite figure out if that would be for the better or not. He elected to keep quiet.

 

May slid into her seat first, followed by an unsure Peter, and then Tony, who displayed a mood of faux-confidence that Peter saw right through. 

 

He cleared his throat and gave a smile that looked how Peter felt. “Food looks delicious, Ms. Parker.”

 

“Hope it doesn’t disappoint,” she responded with a slight edge to her voice. She then gestured for them to serve themselves. 

 

Peter and May served themselves first, Tony silently waiting until May’s nails were out of reach from his wrists. When Tony did decide it was safe to get his own food, May spoke, looking pointedly at her nephew.

 

“You’re grounded, by the way.”

 

Peter stopped rolling his pasta on his fork and released a huff of air. “How long?” he asked resignedly, knowing there was absolutely no point in trying to fight her anymore.

 

“How long ago since you were bitten?”

 

At that, Peter did give a childish pout. “May…”

 

“Peter,” she mocked him, matching his whine.

 

“I don’t know.” Peter sighed after a moment and shrugged, eating the pasta on his fork. “Seven months?”

 

May stared at him. “You worked hard to keep this one under wraps, huh?”

 

Peter nodded. Tony took a sip of water, not taking his eyes off the empty space in front of him. 

 

“It’s my purpose, May,” Peter stated and May’s frown at his answer made her look as if she aged five years in that very second.

 

“Three months,” May decided after a few seconds. “No Spider-Manning for three months.”

 

When Peter looked like he was about to argue, May’s gaze sharpened. “Complain and I’ll make it four.”

 

Peter swallowed his complaint and judged a look at Tony who was looking up at May with hooded eyes, his gaze surprisingly vacant. Peter looked back at May, nodded, and put another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

 

May must’ve noticed Tony’s watchful eyes because she gazed at him next. “Any qualms about that, Stark?”

 

“None,” he sniffed.

 

“Good,” she said. “Because, for all intents and purposes, you’re grounded for three months too.”

 

Tony visibly paused and glanced sharply up at May. He couldn’t help but smile at her confusedly. 

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You’re there for Spider-Man, not Peter Parker,” May said, cutting mozzarella with the edge of her fork. Tony furrowed his brows and went to object, but May kept speaking: “So long as he’s not Spider-Man, you have no need for him and he has no need for you.”

 

Peter was sure that May didn’t mean for it to come out as harshly as it did, but it made Tony’s eyes soften with a sad expression that Peter couldn’t completely pinpoint. Something distant.

 

“Forgive me, Ms. Parker,” Tony said. “But if I didn’t care about your nephew, I wouldn’t spend a minute of my time making sure he was safe-” he gestured minutely to Peter with his fork. “-I wouldn’t have spent a dime making a suit for him.”

 

“Tony,” she said, leaning forward slightly, the use of his first name making Tony wince slightly. “You’re a businessman, not a father.”

 

“I’m not trying to be either,” Tony responded, though the words seemed to stick to his throat a little. “I’m trying to be a mentor.”

 

“That’s not enough.”

 

“Okay,” Tony said, borderline annoyed. “What do you suggest I be?”

 

“I need you to be good,” May said, causing both Peter and Tony to pause. “Just...be  _ good,  _ be a  _ guardian.  _ If you’re going to mentor him, just be  _ there.  _ You don’t need to be a businessman, or a father, or anything other than good. Use judgement and be an adult. And, please-” her voice turned into a plea. “-just talk to me. He’s my boy. I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

 

Tony regarded her for a few long seconds and she kept her gaze on him, some sort of silent communication passing between the two of them before Tony nodded minutely.

 

“Okay. Understood,” he said, offering a small, gentle smile. “Truce?”   
  


May, for the first time in the entire exchange, returned his smile with one of her own, the lines of her face relaxing ever so slightly. “Truce.”

 

Peter looked down at his plate and smiled to himself as the atmosphere of the room settled into something more bearable. 

 

Tony seemed to fall into his usual behavior after the argument seemed settled, asking Peter about school and not-so-subtly hinting at the superiority of the ironclad Spider-Man suit back at the compound upstate. Peter could tell Tony wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty about turning down the Avenger position- he was still searching for comfort in his words and snark in the unfamiliar situation. If he wasn’t talking to Peter, he was complimenting May for the food, claiming it was nearly as good as his mother’s, which was a compliment, he insisted, because his mother was the best italian chef he knew. Nostalgic sadness sparked in his gaze when he said that, despite his smile not faltering. Peter sympathized.

 

May remained humble about the meal despite her previous desire to show Tony up and make him uncomfortable, all of which she did not admit. They all knew it worked. She even indulged a little and told a few stories about her less-than-successful attempts at cooking in the past. When all three of them laughed and smiled at the end of her last story was when any remaining tension shattered. May even brought out some leftover, store-bought cannolis from a few days ago to serve to the table. 

 

The meal ended peacefully with an amount of leftovers that could serve as dinner for the next evening. Peter excused himself, taking his empty plates and glassware to the kitchen, washing and drying them. 

 

“Oh, no, no you don’t,” came May’s voice, loud against the clattering of silverware against glass. Her voice was stern, but Peter could tell it was in jest. “You don’t have to do this.”

 

“I insist,” Tony said in a voice that was playfully lascivious. It made Peter sigh audibly and he shook his head, seeing his mentor flash a bright smile in his direction. “I saw that.”

 

“I  _ heard  _ that,” Peter griped, a smile breaking onto his face as Tony rounded the corner with plastic dishes in his arms. “I’m not sure Ms. Potts would approve.”

 

Tony shrugged. “The rings say otherwise.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “That was real?”

 

Tony looked at him for a second, pausing in the handoff of the plate into Peter’s waiting grasp. He released a short laugh. “You thought that was a PR stunt?”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Peter said pointedly, snatching the plate from Tony before turning and washing it.

 

Tony laughed again. “Kid,  _ most  _ of the things you hear about me are not that far from the truth.”

 

“Yeah?” Peter asked, casting a sidelong glance at Tony. His mentor’s smile faltered ever so slightly and his left arm twitched as he placed a clutch of forks beside the sink. 

 

Peter thought about the vague tabloids released after Tony’s return from Siberia. They mentioned a Sokovian ex-militant, a fallout, and Captain America vanishing into hiding without a single trace. Stark Industries, specifically Pepper, and a few anonymous sources here and there kept much of the information regarding Stark’s involvement in Siberia to a hush. Secretary Ross, from Peter’s understanding, was having none of it, publically coming after Stark with accusations of terrorism and illegally hiding Captain America and his merry men in a place where Ross was determined to find. No such luck it seemed because Ross was getting angrier and angrier as the days wore on. Each day that passed seemed to add another line to Tony’s face.

 

Peter knew that those accusations were wildly inaccurate. He was present for the fight in Berlin, for Christ’s sake, and Mr. Stark was  _ not  _ a terrorist. Even the accusation of Mr. Stark housing the ex-Avengers in private didn’t seem truthful either. Maybe he knew where they were, but made no effort in publicizing their locations. Even in the shadow of their argument and the Accords, Tony was not letting the government get their grubby hands on them.

 

But even past those accusations, the vagueness of the tabloids seemed to hold merit, which scared Peter. Fallout, for one (read: betrayal if that bruise had anything to do with Siberia, which it did, Peter was convinced) was a word used widely in the articles. Tony didn’t speak of the fugitive team outside of business and when he did, he addressed them as ‘Rogers’ and ‘Romanoff’ and ‘Barton.’ The detachment of it all made Peter anxious. He knew it grated on his mentor too; on some days that Peter went to visit Tony, the man just seemed lost. They’d be in the lab and Peter would be doing homework or playing with DUM-E or whatever have you, and Tony would be working as well, but without thought and without passion; like he was driven by his hands only with no brains attached. Like he was a machine.

 

Peter didn’t like those days very much.

 

Some days were good, hell, most days were good, but the days that were sullen and sad seemed to stick to Peter the most. It made the question ‘what happened in Siberia?’ itch the tip of his tongue each time he saw his mentor, but each time, he swallowed the words. He would hate to bring up those supposedly awful memories back to the surface. His mentor was held together by seams of alcohol and metal and Peter didn’t want those fissures to break. He hoped that one day Tony would tell Peter about it, but the boy knew that it would never be the case. Tony didn’t work like that.

 

So those stories, those wordless looks, the lines that edged eyes, the vacant stares, the faint odor of  _ Grey Goose;  _ all of those accumulated into the man standing beside Peter, his bright smile turned into something a little harder to uphold, something vulnerable, and something Peter knew he hated to see, but appreciated the trust in that vulnerability.

 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed quietly, handing the last plate off to Peter before going back to the table to retrieve more glassware containers.

 

\----

 

The rest of the evening Tony stayed went by uneventfully. The two adults talked a little more to themselves, but none of it was heated or barbed with venomous fangs. May might have joked about a restraining order which made Tony laugh nervously, but other than that, nothing happened until the time was a little after nine o’clock. Tony glanced at his watch, muttered a command or comment to F.R.I.D.A.Y., before reaching his hand out to shake May’s.

 

“Thank you for the evening, Ms. Parker,” he said cordially. “I look forward to never having to talk about this again.”

 

May laughed. “Well, that’s up to you.”

 

Tony looked offended. “Have you met your nephew? He’s a troublemaker.”

 

“Oh, I’m aware,” May said, glancing at Peter who was sprawled in the armchair by the door. He gave her a sheepish smirk. “But now you’re partners in crime. That can’t bode well for anybody.”

 

Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, he’s a good kid. He’ll keep me in check, I’m sure.”

 

May hummed, standing. “We’ll see about that.”

 

Tony stood as well and followed her to the door, Peter on the man’s heels. May unlocked the door and turned to look at the two boys behind her. “Three months. The both of you,” she reminded. “You can visit, but so superhero bull- understand?” 

 

The two gave polite affirmatives and May opened the door for the billionaire. She looked behind him to glance at Peter. “You and I will still talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding passively and shuffling his feet.

 

Tony smiled at Peter and gave a subtle nod with his chin. “You’ll survive.”

Peter scoffed. “I hope.”

 

With that May, turned back to Tony, her hands fisting at the fake pockets in her jeans. “I would slap you,” she said casually. Peter watched Tony’s face crumble ever so slightly. “But it seems someone’s already beat me to it.”

 

Tony’s demeanor didn’t shift, but he did lightly touch his discolored cheek with the calloused pads of his fingers. “Well, if symmetry is what you like, the other cheek is open.”

 

From Peter’s angle, he couldn’t see his aunt’s expression, but he imagined it softening by the way Tony’s mildly protective smile turned gentle and thankful.

 

“I don’t think you deserve that,” May whispered to the man, Peter’s sensitive hearing picking up the barely breathed words. “And...all things considered, thank you for helping my boy. I apologize for trying to bite your head off.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Tony murmured, shaking his head in response. “He’s a great kid. Smart. You’ve done him well.”

 

May didn’t respond and Tony cast a glance behind her back at Peter, who looked away innocently as if he hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

 

“Well,” Tony said in his normal speaking voice, fishing out his rose-tinted glasses and putting them on his face. “Better get back before  _ Pepper  _ bites my head off. She’s fun like that.”

 

“Have a good evening, Tony,” May said as Tony opened the door, the hinges whining in protest.

 

“You as well,” Tony responded before glancing at Peter again. “You be good, kiddo. You’re no use to me if you die because you tried to cross your aunt.”

 

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” Peter said, stifling a smile at May’s playfully narrowed eyes and set jawline. 

 

“Next Saturday, yeah?” Tony pointed at the boy. “DUM-E misses you.”

 

“And I miss him and his oil-laced smoothies.” Peter rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Seriously, what’s his deal?”

 

“Hey leave him alone, he tries his best.”

 

Peter smirked. “I’m sure.”

 

“Have a good night, Mr. Parker,” Tony said, nodding in farewell.

 

“You too, Mr. Stark. Sleep. Please.”

 

Tony simply grinned in response and shut the door at his back, his footsteps vanishing as he moved down the hallway.

 

May stood at the door for a moment, looking at where the man had stood, before glancing back at Peter, her eyes a little sadder than they had been. “He’s a good man,” she said simply.

 

“I know, May,” Peter agreed, looking at the same spot, the fake bravado of a man wallowing in his wake. Peter sighed and offered the vacant space a tight lipped smile. “I know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> vote below: should i write an absolute angst fest 3+1 of times peter hugged tony and one time tony hugged peter...post-infinity war?  
> i know its been done but fuck if infinity war didnt kill me  
> or if you have any other ideas hmu


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